


Dead People are Bitter than you

by OhBeJoyful



Category: The religion of the Dead
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:38:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhBeJoyful/pseuds/OhBeJoyful
Summary: Alex Smith was only seventeen when people she trusted raped and murdered her, now as a ghost it is her job to haunt, and torment the living till they decide to end themselves.





	1. Beginning at the end

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Delight007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delight007/gifts), [coryfywhatshisface](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=coryfywhatshisface).



“The stars are going away,” I thought duly, “maybe if I stay still they will come back.”  
  
I jerked awake looking at the dark sky for a moment dazed, the pain in my body became more pronounced with increasing throbs, with only a slight wince I began to backtrack from last night. The sky was beginning to lighten as I leaned against a tree and chanced a glance at my clothes or lack of “Such a pretty girl,” I recalled with a shuddering breath, “no need to scream sweetheart, we’ll take good care of you.”  
  
I began sprinting the dreary trees poking passing her by barely registering. through the ground, when I caught a glimpse of the treeline I sped slightly. The small country backroad unfamiliar and strange, but without any other options she began walking along the road. After only a few minutes she heard a car, without letting myself think about the consequences I stepped into the road.  
  
“Stop please!” I wailed as the car came into sights “I need help! Please, help me!”  
  
My pleas for sympathy fell silent as the car continued to speed up. I couldn’t hold back the sob that broke through my throat, just as I met the raging vehicle. Only for it to pass through me harmlessly. At that moment she realized that I was never going to be able to tell the people who mattered to me just how much I cared. I screamed, at the unfairness of it all.  
  
After hours, days maybe, finally I felt empty hollow instead of the rage and grief that had consumed me. Settling into my soul was a hollow acceptance, and I began to push myself into standing from my place in the center of the road. Only to have everything go white.  
Standing, inside of an incredibly creepy hospital with what appeared to be other dead people while being naked, bruised and bloody was humiliating. The experience would have be worse though if anyone had bothered to look at me. Still as I took a seat next to a man who had a knife in his chest I decided that I could look far worse than strangled and naked. As I began to loosen in my seat trying to get more comfortable in the crappy plastic chairs I glanced at the ceiling and felt horrified.  
  
There are bruises all over my body, my neck most noticeably, my face the picture of ghostly pale, my normally green eyes are overpowered by blood red. My dark brown hair appears greasy and almost hangs over the gash that goes from my temple to almost meet my lips. Lips that instead of the rosy pink I prefered them to be, a dull blue. I couldn’t help my cringe at the sight I made, and tried to focus on the pale, walls that matched the skin of everybody in the room.  
  
“Alex Smith,” Called the the plain man at the the front, “you may walk through door two, now.” Jolting slightly at my full name being called I hurried past the attendant and slammed the door in my haste. The noise was the only one in the gloomy room, and unfortunately I was not alone. On the other end of the small room, and across the large stacks of paper was a large wooden desk with papers scattered all along it. At the desk was an eerie looming man, with skin matching paper, and eyes matching black ink. His thin lips pulled into a large cheshire smile as he gestured me to sit in a small white chair.  
  
“Welcome Miss Smith,” the spidery man crooned, on his wispy voice, “to Afterlife central, now looking at your file we have little to no beliefs can you clarify what you are?”  
For a moment I stood there staring as he proceeded to flip through page after page of my file. “I am a ghost,” I told him confused, ‘what else could I be? I don’t look human anymore.’ it wasn’t .as though he looked human either though so maybe it was a genuine question.  
  
“I see,” he muttered frowning, opening and shutting his desk drawers searching for something, “that puts you in the Haunt department, so you’ll need a human or two to haunt and drive craz-aha!” He exclaimed while reaching beneath his desk. “Here you go your first human to scare, once he kills himself you’ll be moved onto different humans,” he grinned, bloody sharp teeth glinting in the dingy room, “to haunt you need a different name though, any preference?” I couldn’t make myself move at all, much less speak to such a frightening thing as him. His gaze with those pure black eyes, could see everything every secret, all my thoughts, I couldn’t hide. “Here is your finished file.”  
  
When I finished reading the file, I the room was replaced by simple bedroom with navy blue walls, and smooth wood floors. The single window only gave the barest amount of light in the bedroom, the small bed with a young man with bright red hair, and covered in freckles. I hated him, the realization was startling, but what did he do to deserve life, when I was murdered so young. As he breathed, and his heart beat my rage rose, how dare he have peace when I was given a brutal end. He would meet his end, a brutal one I promised myself.

  


 

  


“Nice to meet you,” I whisper near his ear, “my name is Corvino, and I will kill you.” As he snored peacefully in bed I began to plan, a beautiful plan for death, a gorgeous end to an insignificant life. For the first time in so long I grinned a cheshire grin.


	2. Not the shirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren and Corvino meet offically.

Warren Pov

  
”So your name is?” I inquired the phantom as traversed my room pulling things from drawers, and sneered at them in distaste as though they offended her.  
  
“No, I already told you it was Corvino, Human.” Corvino barely even glanced in my direction preferring to shred some more of my things, to my increasing dismay. She continued to add yet another item to the growing list of things she destroyed.  
  
“Why do you seem to hate my clothes, I mean sure some are dirty,” I rambled slightly “but it’s not like my clothes are offensive or anything.” She stared with bloodshot eyes at me till I quieted. I help feeling a little indignant ‘just because she likes being naked doesn’t mean I have to as well’ I thought sullenly.  
  
“It is irritating that I must go around in the attire that I had when I died.” She snapped at me, while ripping another shirt. At that I looked over her again this time with new eyes, eyes that probably broadcast my thoughts with flashing lights. Throwing the newly ruined shirt to the ground she stood looming over me by nearly a foot. “I need none of your sympathy human.” The sharp teeth had blood on them, I backed away, finished for now with asking such dangerous questions.

_____________________________________________________________

 

Though she cut an intimidating figure lurking and snarling, we both quickly understood that she couldn’t touch anything alive. “Not that she didn’t try her best to tear my throat out,” I recalled my terror in waking this morning, how her screams of rage were magnified by her clawlike fingers tearing at me with a bloodlust I hadn’t seen before.  
  
I took one last glance at the horrific gashes and tears in my matress and pillow, then at the variety of shredded clothing, and then her bloody eyes. She may have been beautiful once, but with the blood on her body, and bloodlust in her veins, she was just a monster.  
  
“You can’t even do anything,” I rant at her feeling the frustration welling in me, “there isn’t a point why don’t you just leave?” She stares at me for a long time, her bloodshot eyes fixated on me. She slowly opens her mouth and surprises me by singing.  
  
  


Surrounding, and encompassing it’s everywhere  
When I leave I notice that it’s only found there  
Only on the small farm with gardens I spent my childhood in

  
I almost demand she stop, her voice was cold and chilling, yet small and childlike too.I feel almost relieved, she isn’t being violent again, till I realize she’s the girl from the farm. And I decide to wait and listen, if only to find some answers. 


End file.
